TMWSC is sitting at the dining room table, along with TMWSC Senior (Dad). Dad is in fact not one to use the 'C' word, so perhaps should be known as TMWDNUTCW. He is mid-crossword. In the kitchen, is Mum - mother of TMWSC and she likes the word 'Ruddy', so perhaps should be known as TWWSR. However, for the purposes of this exercise, TMWDNUTCW and TWWSR will be referred to as Dad and Mum, respectively. TMWSC will for once be referred to as 'Son'.
Mum: "Would anyone like another cup of tea?"
Dad: "I wouldn't mind a cup of tea; I haven't had one yet."
Mum: "You had coffee!"
Dad: "I haven't had coffee?"
Mum: "Yes you have. Don't you remember the sugar?"
Dad: "What sugar?"
Mum: "You said there wasn't enough sugar in the bowl, and that you had to get more out."
Dad: "Ah, well, maybe; but I can't remember having coffee."
Son: "How long ago?"
Mum: "Ooh, about thirty minutes ago."
Dad: "I can't remember having a coffee (mumbled to Son)
Son: "What's his having a coffee thirty minutes ago got to do with him wanting a cup of tea now?"
Mum: "He can't remember having a coffee."
Nothing is said for a minute or two. In the kitchen, Mum is satisfied that she's had the last word, and at the table, the crossword is being completed at a rather slow speed. Then, TWWSR appears with a cup of tea for TMWDNUTCW (ie. her husband).
Dad: "Oh, you remembered!"
Mum: "I'm not the one who forgets things!"
TWWSR returns to the kitchen, and potters around. A tap is turned on, and then off again, and in a lowered voice, comes:
Mum: "Ooh, you can't beat a drop of water!"
...
Friday, 13 April 2012
13.4.12 The Vice
A few years back there was a really good drama on TV, and it gave a new slant to the police and crime genre. Good old Ken Stott was well cast as the bloke in charge, and Marc Warren was excellent as well. With David Harewood and Caroline Catz (long before Doc Martin) it gave us four interesting characters.
A few weeks ago, I was pleased to see that it was making a return to our screens, but I was sadly wrong. Instead of this excellent programme being added to the schedules, an imposter was on the horizon. Yes, there was an extra 'O' in the cuntin' name. You're already there, aren't you!
Yes, the offending, cunting, annoying shite that's been served up for a couple of weeks, with a third episode tomorrow, was The Voice, and not The Vice. Instead of four interesting characters, we have four plastic, overpaid, self-obsessed arses.
Oh my life - what a sad day when the BBC spends over £20million on bollocks. "It's all about the voice". No it fucking isn't - "It's all about the judges" is more accurate. The farce is amazing. The carefully crafted conveyor belt of shit that's served up as entertainment is preposterous. The acts are hand-picked and primed to fuck, and we are drawn in to this supposedly new phenomenon. But, it's a fantastic exercise in manipulation. I confess to having watched just a few minutes of this forgery of a programme, and resent paying my licence fee. The left-wing, contaminated and fucked-up BBC is representative of institutional madness. I suspect there's more vice in the BBC than in The Vice.
...
A few weeks ago, I was pleased to see that it was making a return to our screens, but I was sadly wrong. Instead of this excellent programme being added to the schedules, an imposter was on the horizon. Yes, there was an extra 'O' in the cuntin' name. You're already there, aren't you!
Yes, the offending, cunting, annoying shite that's been served up for a couple of weeks, with a third episode tomorrow, was The Voice, and not The Vice. Instead of four interesting characters, we have four plastic, overpaid, self-obsessed arses.
Oh my life - what a sad day when the BBC spends over £20million on bollocks. "It's all about the voice". No it fucking isn't - "It's all about the judges" is more accurate. The farce is amazing. The carefully crafted conveyor belt of shit that's served up as entertainment is preposterous. The acts are hand-picked and primed to fuck, and we are drawn in to this supposedly new phenomenon. But, it's a fantastic exercise in manipulation. I confess to having watched just a few minutes of this forgery of a programme, and resent paying my licence fee. The left-wing, contaminated and fucked-up BBC is representative of institutional madness. I suspect there's more vice in the BBC than in The Vice.
...
13.4.12 Britain's Got Talent Competition Error
Last week we were given an opportunity to spend (waste) money on the BGT competition, which posed the following question.
Which of these British landmarks is in London?
A: Stonehenge
B: Big Ben
C: Hadrian's Wall
The answer of course is none of them, because it was a trick question and I suspect there could be some dodgy dealing, to fleece us on money (I say 'us' in the sense of not fucking me, as I've more sense than to subscribe to the BGT Lottery). I am quite sure that the answer that would be classed as 'correct' is B, for Big Ben. However, anyone with a brain weighing more than 2 grammes and who isn't deluded, will have realised that Big Ben is the name of the bell in the tower - and a bell is hardly a 'landmark' is it! The Landmark that the twat was thinking of when he chose this as the question can only have been the 'Clock Tower'.
Britain's got fuck all talent in the question-setting department, that's for sure!
...
Which of these British landmarks is in London?
A: Stonehenge
B: Big Ben
C: Hadrian's Wall
The answer of course is none of them, because it was a trick question and I suspect there could be some dodgy dealing, to fleece us on money (I say 'us' in the sense of not fucking me, as I've more sense than to subscribe to the BGT Lottery). I am quite sure that the answer that would be classed as 'correct' is B, for Big Ben. However, anyone with a brain weighing more than 2 grammes and who isn't deluded, will have realised that Big Ben is the name of the bell in the tower - and a bell is hardly a 'landmark' is it! The Landmark that the twat was thinking of when he chose this as the question can only have been the 'Clock Tower'.
Britain's got fuck all talent in the question-setting department, that's for sure!
...
Thursday, 12 April 2012
12.4.12 Donkeys In The Mail
I should start by saying that I have nothing against donkeys. They play no part in my life, but their absence is neither a drawback, nor a cause for celebration. Donkeys are fine animals, useful to many, but rather irrelevant to my own life. The same is true for Mrs MWSC. We are not 'donkey people', if such a term has any meaning. We wish them well, but that's as far as it goes.
It was with some surprise therefore that Mrs MWSC received in the post, a week ago, an unsolicited letter, pleading the case of neglected donkeys. The personally addressed circular was aimed at generating some sympathy for poor abandoned and mistreated donkeys. Who could possibly look at Laurel and Hardy and not be affected. I am of course NOT referring to the comedy duo, but the two donkeys sharing the same names, below.
"Unloved, abandoned and slowly starving to death - Laurel and Hardy's desperate fight for life" appears in large bold print below the picture (that's not a sentence, by the way).
The sob-story on the front page explains how Laurel, Hardy and Tim (a Shetland Pony) were rescued, after nearly starving to death. Lice infested, matted coats, hair loss, patches of raw skin, long and twisted hooves, and weight loss were all relayed via a rather unpalatable narrative. We also needed to know that their bedding was covered in urine and faeces. The story went on to explain how The Donkey Sanctuary was able to make everything okay again, all relayed in a style akin to a children's story. I have every sympathy for donkeys who suffer in this way. I dislike, though, the manner in which charitable donations are sought.
The letter is so cheesy, and there's no detail at all to support the 'fairytale-like' account that shows us how wonderful The Donkey Sanctuary is; it could all have happened in the 1960s (?) The requests for amounts ranging from £5 to £30 tell us what such a donation "could help" towards. This turn of phrase is meaningless. I could ask you for a tenner, as it "could help towards the cost of" anything I care to mention - but it might not.
I am afraid I'm not moved enough to send money, or set up a direct debit in favour of donkeys. I am curious as to how The Donkey Sanctuary came to write to Mrs MWSC, thinking she might be inclined to contribute - it's a mystery how she was 'chosen'. I would however, have liked to learn more on an associated matter, and may well have decided to contribute with more of a direct approach. I am talking of punishment for the people mistreating animals.
Why is it that mistreated animals are cared for by a charity, whose existence depends massively on public support and donations, when there's not much said or done about the people responsible? I would like to see those who mistreat animals fined-to-the-fucking-hilt for causing such pain and grief, and locked up as well. Seize assets, levy fines, and make the fuckers pay. Rather than me, or Mrs MWSC, paying £10 per month on a direct debit, why isn't the person who caused grief being made to pay monthly for the horrendous actions that caused the issue? Accountability is missing from society these days. I will contribute to the fund that sets out an aim to track down those who abuse animals, and beat the shit out of them, then make them pay financially!
As for the rest of the junk mail last week, it's all being 'recycled' - interchanged and posted back to the senders.
...
It was with some surprise therefore that Mrs MWSC received in the post, a week ago, an unsolicited letter, pleading the case of neglected donkeys. The personally addressed circular was aimed at generating some sympathy for poor abandoned and mistreated donkeys. Who could possibly look at Laurel and Hardy and not be affected. I am of course NOT referring to the comedy duo, but the two donkeys sharing the same names, below.
"Unloved, abandoned and slowly starving to death - Laurel and Hardy's desperate fight for life" appears in large bold print below the picture (that's not a sentence, by the way).
The sob-story on the front page explains how Laurel, Hardy and Tim (a Shetland Pony) were rescued, after nearly starving to death. Lice infested, matted coats, hair loss, patches of raw skin, long and twisted hooves, and weight loss were all relayed via a rather unpalatable narrative. We also needed to know that their bedding was covered in urine and faeces. The story went on to explain how The Donkey Sanctuary was able to make everything okay again, all relayed in a style akin to a children's story. I have every sympathy for donkeys who suffer in this way. I dislike, though, the manner in which charitable donations are sought.
The letter is so cheesy, and there's no detail at all to support the 'fairytale-like' account that shows us how wonderful The Donkey Sanctuary is; it could all have happened in the 1960s (?) The requests for amounts ranging from £5 to £30 tell us what such a donation "could help" towards. This turn of phrase is meaningless. I could ask you for a tenner, as it "could help towards the cost of" anything I care to mention - but it might not.
I am afraid I'm not moved enough to send money, or set up a direct debit in favour of donkeys. I am curious as to how The Donkey Sanctuary came to write to Mrs MWSC, thinking she might be inclined to contribute - it's a mystery how she was 'chosen'. I would however, have liked to learn more on an associated matter, and may well have decided to contribute with more of a direct approach. I am talking of punishment for the people mistreating animals.
Why is it that mistreated animals are cared for by a charity, whose existence depends massively on public support and donations, when there's not much said or done about the people responsible? I would like to see those who mistreat animals fined-to-the-fucking-hilt for causing such pain and grief, and locked up as well. Seize assets, levy fines, and make the fuckers pay. Rather than me, or Mrs MWSC, paying £10 per month on a direct debit, why isn't the person who caused grief being made to pay monthly for the horrendous actions that caused the issue? Accountability is missing from society these days. I will contribute to the fund that sets out an aim to track down those who abuse animals, and beat the shit out of them, then make them pay financially!
As for the rest of the junk mail last week, it's all being 'recycled' - interchanged and posted back to the senders.
...
12.4.12 Fog Lights
There are various levels of offending when it comes to inappropriate use of fog lights. There are numerous idiots on the road, and it's a fact that the worst offenders by car make are those with a German car, and within that sector, the biggest culprits are the owners of Mercedes cars.
1 - Tits
These are the drivers who insist on driving with their headlights on, despite the fact that there's absolutely no need for any assistance when the sun is managing rather well on its own.
2 - Nobs
These are drivers who display enhanced stupidity by driving with both headlights and front fog lights switched on, when neither set of lights is needed.
3 - Arseholes
These are the posers who somehow think it is cool to drive with front fog lights on at all times.
4 - Twats
These are the drivers who insist on using either front or rear fog lights (or both) when there's no fucking fog. As a result, everyone else is blinded.
5 - Cunts
Drivers of cars who decide they are entitled to harass others and intimidate with their driving style. They drive with the front fog lights on, and often 'tailgate'. They typically manoeuvre with no consideration for anyone else, and seem to think that their bright lights entitle them to behave like cunts.
6 - Fucking Cunts
As above, for 'Cunts', but with the added attribute of lights which are in fact of the newest kind, with small 'dots' to replace the single bulb design.
...
1 - Tits
These are the drivers who insist on driving with their headlights on, despite the fact that there's absolutely no need for any assistance when the sun is managing rather well on its own.
2 - Nobs
These are drivers who display enhanced stupidity by driving with both headlights and front fog lights switched on, when neither set of lights is needed.
3 - Arseholes
These are the posers who somehow think it is cool to drive with front fog lights on at all times.
4 - Twats
These are the drivers who insist on using either front or rear fog lights (or both) when there's no fucking fog. As a result, everyone else is blinded.
5 - Cunts
Drivers of cars who decide they are entitled to harass others and intimidate with their driving style. They drive with the front fog lights on, and often 'tailgate'. They typically manoeuvre with no consideration for anyone else, and seem to think that their bright lights entitle them to behave like cunts.
6 - Fucking Cunts
As above, for 'Cunts', but with the added attribute of lights which are in fact of the newest kind, with small 'dots' to replace the single bulb design.
...
12.4.12 Irony and Annoyances
Honda
I was driving the other day, and had the misfortune to follow a cunt in a CRV. The problem was his speed, which bore no relation to the car's ability, nor the speed limit that applied to any road. On the 60mph by-pass, it moved at 40mph. It slowed to 33mph for the 30mph section, and then on the national speed limit single-lane road (60mph) it shot up to fucking 40mph again. This vehicle pretends to be an off-road one, but the irony (or fucking bad luck in this particular case) is that few are actually off the fucking road and in a field where they belong. Instead, I have to follow a twat who was oblivious to anything outside of his direct vision, covering thirty yards in a straight line ahead.
Renault
Half hour later, I found myself musing at the name of the silver vehicle in front of me. It was a few years old, and was ugly as fuck. Strange then, that the makers had settled upon 'Scenic' as a name for the model - wholly inappropriate.
Cunt-operative
I chanced upon a lorry that was transporting overpriced shit to Co-op shops, or 'Cunt-op' as you'll appreciate, if you have read other blog posts or been anywhere near a fucking store! On the side of the large vehicle was:
Co-op is the biggest supermarket
Supporter of Fairtrade
Now, I find it both ironic and fucking annoying that this retailer boasts about being the biggest supermarket, yet it has absolutely loads of fairly small stores to make up the chain. So, it's the biggest supermarket chain, with shops of the smallest average size - which often don't sell what you have gone in to buy, or present you with one expensive option. The second level of irony comes from its support of Fairtrade whilst adopting practices which hardly support any notion whatsoever of trading fairly. You cannot believe a single recommended retail price, or that any offers are not weird contortions of normal pricing policy to make the 'deal' look good. Every single temporary good deal is made up for 156 times over by the horrendously high prices for items not in a promotion. Luckily for the Cunt-op, the old folk with no cars or computers waddle in with their tartan trolleys and wicker baskets, and load up with overpriced items.
The final irony, of course, is the Cunt-op's slogan: Good with food. Yeah, right . . . . [Sorry, that's sarcasm, rather than emphasis on the irony of the complete mismatch of claim/view with reality]
Leicestershire
I've nothing against Leicestershire - although I've nothing for it either. Neither am I really fussed one way or the other regarding the use of alliteration; couldn't cuntin' care. However, I was amused by the advertising hoarding on the edge of the field by the motorway, announcing:
Luxury Living in Leicestershire
The enticement towards what is a housing development is alongside the motorway, right next to Leicester Forest East service station, one of the direst and most depressing places on earth!
Limited Speed
On a duel carriageway, I found myself slowly (very slowly, mind) catching a lorry, and because of a faster car approaching in the outside lane, I settle for temporarily following the lorry. I saw a sticker on its rear, saying:
This vehicle is limited at 50mph
I looked at my speedometer, which was showing 63mph, and decided that the reliability of stickers is not what it used to be.
Water Leak
I saw a Landrover recently, adorned with logos and writing to prove it was a vehicle owned by Severn Trent Water. Included in the sign-written display was an invitation to call a telephone number to report a problem.
Spotted a leak? Phone Leakline - 0800 783 4444
I've no idea whether STW is one of the best or worst of the water companies, but considering there's a hosepipe ban across a quarter of the country, and the fact that the companies themselves are losing millions of litres per day from their pipes, I am tempted to investigate other telephone numbers for other areas - especially in the south east. I can imagine calling and highlighting to Thames Water a slight leak to the tune of millions of gallons per day!
Ryanair
Cabin crews are highly trained, and in one aspect, females excel. The tannoy announcements are most often handled by a female with a voice that could wake the fucking dead, and strip paint from the blue plastic seats. She will shriek with details of offers for overpriced snacks and perfumes, and give your ears the equivalent of a sand-blast. All this is commonly on the back of either her, the pilot or another member of staff suggesting four minutes beforehand that everyone should "sit back, relax and enjoy the flight". That's irony for you, free of charge, from Ryanair.
...
I was driving the other day, and had the misfortune to follow a cunt in a CRV. The problem was his speed, which bore no relation to the car's ability, nor the speed limit that applied to any road. On the 60mph by-pass, it moved at 40mph. It slowed to 33mph for the 30mph section, and then on the national speed limit single-lane road (60mph) it shot up to fucking 40mph again. This vehicle pretends to be an off-road one, but the irony (or fucking bad luck in this particular case) is that few are actually off the fucking road and in a field where they belong. Instead, I have to follow a twat who was oblivious to anything outside of his direct vision, covering thirty yards in a straight line ahead.
Renault
Half hour later, I found myself musing at the name of the silver vehicle in front of me. It was a few years old, and was ugly as fuck. Strange then, that the makers had settled upon 'Scenic' as a name for the model - wholly inappropriate.
Cunt-operative
I chanced upon a lorry that was transporting overpriced shit to Co-op shops, or 'Cunt-op' as you'll appreciate, if you have read other blog posts or been anywhere near a fucking store! On the side of the large vehicle was:
Co-op is the biggest supermarket
Supporter of Fairtrade
Now, I find it both ironic and fucking annoying that this retailer boasts about being the biggest supermarket, yet it has absolutely loads of fairly small stores to make up the chain. So, it's the biggest supermarket chain, with shops of the smallest average size - which often don't sell what you have gone in to buy, or present you with one expensive option. The second level of irony comes from its support of Fairtrade whilst adopting practices which hardly support any notion whatsoever of trading fairly. You cannot believe a single recommended retail price, or that any offers are not weird contortions of normal pricing policy to make the 'deal' look good. Every single temporary good deal is made up for 156 times over by the horrendously high prices for items not in a promotion. Luckily for the Cunt-op, the old folk with no cars or computers waddle in with their tartan trolleys and wicker baskets, and load up with overpriced items.
The final irony, of course, is the Cunt-op's slogan: Good with food. Yeah, right . . . . [Sorry, that's sarcasm, rather than emphasis on the irony of the complete mismatch of claim/view with reality]
Leicestershire
I've nothing against Leicestershire - although I've nothing for it either. Neither am I really fussed one way or the other regarding the use of alliteration; couldn't cuntin' care. However, I was amused by the advertising hoarding on the edge of the field by the motorway, announcing:
Luxury Living in Leicestershire
The enticement towards what is a housing development is alongside the motorway, right next to Leicester Forest East service station, one of the direst and most depressing places on earth!
Limited Speed
On a duel carriageway, I found myself slowly (very slowly, mind) catching a lorry, and because of a faster car approaching in the outside lane, I settle for temporarily following the lorry. I saw a sticker on its rear, saying:
This vehicle is limited at 50mph
I looked at my speedometer, which was showing 63mph, and decided that the reliability of stickers is not what it used to be.
Water Leak
I saw a Landrover recently, adorned with logos and writing to prove it was a vehicle owned by Severn Trent Water. Included in the sign-written display was an invitation to call a telephone number to report a problem.
Spotted a leak? Phone Leakline - 0800 783 4444
I've no idea whether STW is one of the best or worst of the water companies, but considering there's a hosepipe ban across a quarter of the country, and the fact that the companies themselves are losing millions of litres per day from their pipes, I am tempted to investigate other telephone numbers for other areas - especially in the south east. I can imagine calling and highlighting to Thames Water a slight leak to the tune of millions of gallons per day!
Ryanair
Cabin crews are highly trained, and in one aspect, females excel. The tannoy announcements are most often handled by a female with a voice that could wake the fucking dead, and strip paint from the blue plastic seats. She will shriek with details of offers for overpriced snacks and perfumes, and give your ears the equivalent of a sand-blast. All this is commonly on the back of either her, the pilot or another member of staff suggesting four minutes beforehand that everyone should "sit back, relax and enjoy the flight". That's irony for you, free of charge, from Ryanair.
...
Wednesday, 11 April 2012
11.4.12 Hot Right Now
Travelling on Monday, I listened to the car radio in a state of wonderment and shock. I was dismayed at the complete shit that passes for entertainment. The noise that emanated from the radio was dire; the music was shit and the 'lyrics' (apologies, while I question my own sanity after using this word to describe the utter drivel that accompanied the so-called music). Some efforts were better than others, but I thought I'd share with you one example of complete bollocks, going under the title of 'Hot Right Now'. Just have a read and see what you think of the amazing insights this 'song' offers the human race, and marvel at the complexity of the language, the power of the message and the benefit to humankind brought to us by DJ Fresh, featuring (because there's always some fucking 'featuring' farce) Rita Ora. This is pure gold - fools' gold.
Shit Right Now
got your hands up
cos you think you've got it going crazy
we're not even started
eh oh eh oh eh eh, eh oh eh oh oh oooh
it's so funny that you think you're winning
cos somebody told you who was spinning
eh oh eh oh eh eh, eh oh eh oh eh eh
you know you're only in it cos it's hot right now
hot right now turn it up right now
put your hands in the air if you want it right now
eh oh eh oh hot right now
you know you're only in it cos it's hot right now
hot right now turn it up right now
put your hands in the air if you want it right now
eh oh eh oh hot right now
(throw your hands up ...)
you got the latest place
it's on your radar by the time you show your face
it's over eh oh eh oh eh eh, eh oh eh oh oooh
you got the magic numbers on your speed dial
and you're too busy dropping names, but me one
you know you're only in it cos it's hot right now
hot right now turn it up right now
put your hands in the air if you want it right now
eh oh eh oh hot right now
you know you're only in it cos it's hot right now
hot right now turn it up right now
put your hands in the air if you want it right now
eh oh eh oh hot right now
I'm let me see the club get hotter, hotter
I wanna see your hands up higher higher
I don't need close shouts oh oh oh oh
can i get a woah!
I'm let me see the club get hotter, hotter
I wanna see your hands up higher higher
I don't need close shouts oh oh oh oh
can i get a woah!
you know you're only in it cos it's hot right now
hot right now turn it up right now
put your hands in the air if you want it right now
eh oh eh oh hot right now
you know you're only in it cos it's hot right now
hot right now turn it up right now
put your hands in the air if you want it right now
eh oh eh oh hot right now
(throw your hands up ...)
cos it's hot right now
...
Shit Right Now
got your hands up
cos you think you've got it going crazy
we're not even started
eh oh eh oh eh eh, eh oh eh oh oh oooh
it's so funny that you think you're winning
cos somebody told you who was spinning
eh oh eh oh eh eh, eh oh eh oh eh eh
you know you're only in it cos it's hot right now
hot right now turn it up right now
put your hands in the air if you want it right now
eh oh eh oh hot right now
you know you're only in it cos it's hot right now
hot right now turn it up right now
put your hands in the air if you want it right now
eh oh eh oh hot right now
(throw your hands up ...)
you got the latest place
it's on your radar by the time you show your face
it's over eh oh eh oh eh eh, eh oh eh oh oooh
you got the magic numbers on your speed dial
and you're too busy dropping names, but me one
you know you're only in it cos it's hot right now
hot right now turn it up right now
put your hands in the air if you want it right now
eh oh eh oh hot right now
you know you're only in it cos it's hot right now
hot right now turn it up right now
put your hands in the air if you want it right now
eh oh eh oh hot right now
I'm let me see the club get hotter, hotter
I wanna see your hands up higher higher
I don't need close shouts oh oh oh oh
can i get a woah!
I'm let me see the club get hotter, hotter
I wanna see your hands up higher higher
I don't need close shouts oh oh oh oh
can i get a woah!
you know you're only in it cos it's hot right now
hot right now turn it up right now
put your hands in the air if you want it right now
eh oh eh oh hot right now
you know you're only in it cos it's hot right now
hot right now turn it up right now
put your hands in the air if you want it right now
eh oh eh oh hot right now
(throw your hands up ...)
cos it's hot right now
...
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